Sometimes It Never Comes At All? Fk That
by jono74656
Summary: No one disses Santana Lopez in song, especially not a curly-haired Gargler with delusions of being good enough for her best gay. Santana/Blaine smackdown with Hevans pre-slash/slash.


**AN: I'm working on a new chapter of Sweet Porcelain, but this fic idea grabbed hold of my muse and demanded to be written. My abiding memory of 'Silly Love Songs' is that Santana wouldn't take being dissed in song well, especially not by a curly-haired prep-school midget; this is the result of that, Santana/Blaine smackdown with background Hevans friendship fluff and preslash.**

**Warnings: Santana.**

**Disclaimer: Have Sam and Kurt gotten their sexy on yet... No? Then I don't own it.**

Sometimes It Never Comes At All? F**k That.

Santana had officially had enough of this shit. She was only at this lame lonely hearts shindig because Rainbow Brite had invited her, personally; and here she was watching Britt be all couple-y with Stubbles McCripplepants and having to endure Puck and the Endangered White Rhino making ridiculous woobie faces at each other.

This shit would not stand.

Wasn't it enough that she'd been verbally pwned by Barbra Strident? Or that Edna Turnblatt had quite literally wiped the floor with her? Hell, she was being stalked by the freshman she'd macked on to manage her little biological warfare plan with Finnocence and CheerBitch Barbie; little creeper was gonna end up having an unfortunate accident if he didn't stop following her around with a leer on his face. And now, the crowning turd on this crapola of a week, the Garglers curly-haired hobbit of a frontman had just announced, in song, that she was never going to find love.

Fuck this noise. No one dissed Santana Lopez in song and got away with it. She was going to go _full _Lima Heights on his miniature ass. She was going to be picking his freakishly deformed eyebrows out of her teeth for _weeks_.

She was startled to look up and realise that she'd gotten so caught up in her delicious thoughts of revenge, she hadn't noticed the Wobblers had stopped singing, and were spreading out around the restaurant. Glambert and the Shireling were sitting with Aretha, Chang Squared and Berry, but the Asian Wobbler who'd rubbed up against her while they were singing was heading her way. She stood, and raised a hand, palm-out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stop right there, Asian-Wobblebottom, I don't have time to play along with your delusions of getting all up on this, I have to skin your lead singer and turn him into some kind of accessory, possibly a new blanket for my dog."

She gave a satisfied smirk as he paled, then turned and fled; prowling over to the table where her target was sat. Even as she reached them Asian Fusion stood up, making their goodbyes, before disappearing out into the night with suspicious speed, she bet that Morticia was gonna strap one on and ride Other Asian til he forgot all about his old pal Rutherford.

She allowed herself to reminisce for a moment, remembering how eager to please the Dancing Duo had been, before focusing back on the here and now, one of the Goggles had come along and invited ManHands out for a coffee, poor bastard, and Aretha was staring blankly as GlitterBall and The Eyebrows jabbered back and forth about Vogue and something about Zac Efron?

"For fucks sake Aretha, this place is full of teenage guys whose uniforms bump them up a full point on the hotness scale, stop moping around and go talk to one of them, that skinny blonde looks like a goer."

She ignored Aretha's spluttering, focusing on her favourite gay, "China Doll, I need to talk to your... friend here, why don't you go keep Beiber-Licious company." Here she gestured over her shoulder at a dejected looking Sam, slumped over a table by his lonesome, "Stretch-Marks and your oaf of a stepbrother have been screwing around behind his back and he's taken it kinda badly, go offer him a shoulder to cry on."

He sneered at her briefly, before heaving a theatrical sigh and standing, straightening his fugly uniform blazer before sashaying over to Evans' table. The 'blonde' greeting him with a warm, genuine smile.

She allowed herself a moments satisfaction at her awesome matchmaking skills, before turning her full attention (and bitch face) on the one who had drawn her mercurial wrath.

"Alright Dapper McDouche, it's time we had a little chat."

He turned his big, bright, completely fake smile on her, and she just wanted to punch it down his throat.

"Of course, it's Santana right? Kurt's told me all about the members of his old Glee club."

"Yeah, about that. We're only his 'old' Glee club cause you stuck your smug little nose where it didn't belong and gave him some fucking shitty advice. Just a thought, dumbass, but when someone is being harrassed by a guy who's taller than them and outweighs them by about fifty pounds, don't encourage them to 'stand up to them'. If Karofsky hadn't turned out to be a raging closet case he coulda smeared Kurt all over the locker room floor."

"You know.."

"About Karofsky? It wasn't hard to figure out. Caught him staring at Puck's ass in the hallway the other day."

She preened inwardly at the shocked look on his face, he'd probably been holding Karofsky's secret in reserve as a trump card, to make her realise what a threat the neanderthal was to Ladyface.

"But enough about Mr Tumnus. You gave Kurt crap advice that led directly to him having to transfer schools. That means every time Britt cries about missing her Dolphin it's your fault. Ask anyone at McKinley and they'll tell you that no-one makes Brittany cry. The last guy who did is still in a medically-induced coma while the swelling on his brain goes down."

He lost his seemingly permanent grin for a second, but rallied, beaming at her with enough energy to light a small town.

"I'm sorry that people miss Kurt, but it's for his own good, Karofsky threatened to kill him, that school wasn't safe."

Santana rolled her eyes, "Karofsky's a moron, but he's not a murderer, just a scared little boy. I had a chat with him earlier, he's going to move in with his mom in Defiance and finish off his Junior year in their high school, for his own safety. Coach Sylvester didn't take kindly to Porcelain transferring, and she's been looking for an excuse to take Karofsky down. The douche slushied Becky Jackson today, when the Coach finds out he'll be roasted over a low fire."

"He might be gone, but there are still plenty of homophobic people at McKinley."

"There are homophobes everywhere; none of the others at McKinley are willing to risk pissing off me, Puck and the Coach. With Karofsky gone, Ladyface can come home."

"Kurt is a Warbler now, he's happy with us, at Dalton."

"You mean he's happy with **you**, at Dalton. That place is crushing his soul worse than Karofsky did. He might not have got solos with us, but we didn't expect him to stand in back and smile while pretending to be a fucking ukelele. And no offense, Shortstack, but your voice is nothing special, the fact that you sing lead on every song is just another reason we're going to stomp your little hipster barbershop boyband into the floor at Regionals"

"And besides anything else, I think it's fairer to say he **was** happy with you at Dalton, but you've stuffed that up but good, haven't you?"

Bland, or whatever the fuck his name was, shifted uneasily on the spot,

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap. He doesn't do subtle when he's interested in someone, so if you didn't know how flamingly in love with you he was then you're too dumb to be allowed to live. You go around holding his hand everywhere, singing flirty little duets to 'rehearse' for performances that haven't been held for years, remembering his coffee order, and paying for absolutely everything. Add in some kissing and you two are already dating. Is it any surprise he fell for you?"

"His attention is flattering, but he's not my type."

"No, by all accounts your type is homeless-looking potential pedos, but my point is, if you're not interested, tell him, and stop leading him on. Unless you're keeping him around just in case you can't find someone more to your taste, which is unacceptable. And also, don't friendzone him on fucking Valentines Day, that's just heartless."

Here, she was distracted by the sound of Gayboy Fresh's musical laugh, and she turned to see him and Lips of an Anglefish sat close in their booth, pressed together. They were speaking in low tones, Hummel's delicate porcelain hand combing through dyed blonde locks, Sam leaned into the soothing touch, a warm smile on his face, eyes shining with affection for the countertenor.

She owned this Yenta thing. Hardcore.

She turned back to the hobbit, watching as his eyes flared with possessive rage at the sight of Kurt lavishing his attention elsewhere. He noticed her looking at him and schooled his face back into a benign smile, but it was too late.

"So, you really were just stringing him along cause you liked the attention huh? God, you're so like Hudson, why does Porcelain always have to crush on douchebags?"

"I don't know what you..."

"Listen up, Warbler. If you do anything to screw up Kurt's life any further I will find you, rip out your small intestine and use it to hang you from the ceiling fan. Understood? He and Sam have a real chance to be happy, Hudson's too sick to interfere this time, and the rest of us just want Kurt happy, and back with us."

The Warbler looked genuinely terrified now, and she realised she'd been flexing her hands, red-painted nails glittering under the restaurant lights like she'd dipped them in flesh blood. She raised her head, and made a sharp gesture to attract the attention of the Asian Warbler she'd scared off earlier.

"Wussley, take your singing mascot home and tuck him in, you may want to remove any sharp objects from the room incase he has a nightmare and stabs himself, that would be a fucking tragedy."

The Asian boy nodded frantically, and looking around, directed two of the bigger Warblers to scoop the midget up, the whole troupe, minus Porcelain, heading for the door.

"Oh, and Blaine? You ever diss me in song again, I'll cut your balls off and turn them into earrings for your mom. Then we'll see who 'never comes at all.'

He went pale, and she smelled the most satisfyingly disgusting scent in the world, someone pissing themselves in fear. The Warblers carrying him wrinkled their noses, but kept hold as they swept him out into the parking lot, where the Dalton bus was waiting to take them back to their preppy paradise.

She closed her eyes to bask in imaginary applause at having terrified the competition so thoroughly, then realised there was _actual_ applause. Britt and her cripple were beaming at her, and though Aretha looked pissed that she'd scared off her potential date, she was still smiling at her having smacked down the hobbit so righteously.

Porcelain meanwhile, was completely oblivious. Straddling Sam's waist in the booth, hands buried in dyed locks as his tongue enthusiastically plundered that massive mouth. They only parted when breathing became an issue, chests heaving as warm green-hazel eyes met shimmering glasz. Kurt's cheeks were pleasantly flushed, and he gasped as Sam's hands squeezed his perfect, perky ass.

"Come back to McKinley, Kurt. We miss you. **I **miss you."

Santana smirked as she interjected, "Karofsky's gone Porcelain, and none of the rest of the jocks will risk dealing with me, or Coach, come back and help us grind the Garglers under our heel, the hobbit isn't worth your time and you know it."

Kurt stared at her for a long moment.

"And besides, do you really want to be going to school a couple hours away from those Hot Lips?"

Sam and Kurt both blushed at that, blushing even more as they registered Aretha's flushed cheeks as she stared at them, eyes dark. The diva fanned herself playfully with her hand, then fixed Kurt with a piercing glare.

"White boy, if you don't get up on all that hotness right now, I'mma burn your wardrobe. If that hot piece of man meat is into you, you tell Blaine to go fuck himself, you got something far better waiting for you back at McKinley."

Kurt's cheeks were now so red it looked painful, and Sam tenderly pressed his full lips to those of the brunette.

"Please, Kurt. Come back home, come back to me."

The porcelain-skinned brunette thought for several long moments, before leaning forward and lightly brushing his mouth over Sam's.

"I'll ask my dad to start filling in the transfer paperwork tomorrow. You'll have to come round soon, Sam, he won't be impressed that I'm transferring schools to be with my boyfriend, and will insist on making sure you're good enough for me."

Sam smiled warmly,

"Whatever it takes, you're worth it, Kurt."

Santana gagged theatrically, choking on the lovey-dovey atmosphere.

"Right, if I stay here any longer your sweetness is gonna give me cavities. I'mma go see if Britt and Wheels are up for a Valentines threesome."

She waved vaguely at her two best gays, and headed over to where the love of her life was sat.

Maybe this Lonely Hearts thing wasn't so bad after all.

**AN: Okay, that was surprisingly cathartic to write, and I enjoyed terrifying Blaine through fic. **

**I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**


End file.
